At Last I See The Light
by ADayWithoutSmilingIsADayWasted
Summary: "I'm sorry. Yes, that sounds like a good way to start my suicide note. I'm not even sure you can call it that. But I want you to know that I'm sorry. I know you're wondering why the hell I did this to myself, and that's why I decided to record this. Happy listening."
1. Chapter 1

**Hey. :)**

**First off, Happy March, and I hope you have an awesome month, filled with good luck, good times, love, friends, family and lots of smiles. Love you!**

**This will be a more serious story. I…I recently read Thirteen Reasons Why, and that book really shook me. Congratulations, Jay Asher, you made me laugh and cry. I love you.**

**And now…I decided to write this story based on his amazing book. I know he'll never see this but I want to thank him for changing the way I look at people.**

**This is for you, Jay Asher. This is for you, anyone who suffers from depression or is suicidal. This is for everyone willing to read it. I hope you enjoy it. I really worked hard on this, so if you like it, I'll be more than thrilled. **

**By the way, this will be a three-shot. Hope you like it…:)**

**Thank you.**

**Enjoy&Review!**

A package.

That's what's on my doorstep. That's what got me out of an awesome dream at eight in the morning. I groan, get the package, then drag it upstairs where I dump it down on my bed, and sit next to it. I grab the pocket knife on my bedside table, and slit the box open.

I glance inside. Photographs, a bunch of them, spill out onto my lap. They show me with Dez, Trish and a bunch of girls I've gone out with. Some I hardly recognize. There's no picture of Ally and me. I continue looking. There's an old tape, one for a walkman, and it feels strange, because I don't think I've ever seen one. I put in next to the pictures. Next, there is a note. I'm about to open it, when I see something on the bottom of the box, which catches my attention.

_Bye_ in bold red letters is written there. I freeze. It's Ally's handwriting.

My heartbeat starts racing, and I feel it thumping in my head. _What is this, _I think. I try to calm down, without success. It feels like the word _bye _imprinted on the back of my eyelids, because I see it every time I blink. I pull on my jeans and the first t-shirt I see. _What does she mean by this?_

Leaving the box behind, I grab my motorcycle keys and race down the stairs, out of the house, and into the garage, where I immediately start the bike and zip away and down the road. My mind has naturally thought of the worst thing possible: suicide. But she wouldn't do it, I tell myself. Never.

She's probably just moving. And I'll be able to convince her to stay. And if I can't, I'll go with her. Yes, that sounds good. Everything will be ok. But my heartbeat doesn't slow and I don't calm down.

Finally, after a traffic-filled ride, I see Sonic Boom in the distance. Unable to wait anymore, I stop the bike and sprint towards the store. The distance is greater than I thought, and soon enough I'm out of breath. I realize I've been muttering the same words over and over in my head: No. I'm sorry. No. Bye. I'm sorry. When I get there, I'm so exhausted that they start mixing up in my head I'm Bye; No sorry. I see that the door is locked. But I know Ally is in there, because she always spends the night here.

_Unless she already left._ I push the thought away.

No. I'm sorry. Bye. No.

I see that the window to the practice room is open, and I glance at the tree next to me. It looks like an easy climb, so I shake off my helmet and jump to the lowest branch, then haul myself up. I remember climbing when I was little, but I was much lighter than now, and climbing was much easier.

The window is finally on the same level as me, and the branch I'm on is close enough, that all I have to do is stretch a little and then I'm on the window sill. The gap is big enough for me to squeeze through, and with a lot of grunting and swearing, I manage to jump in.

Panic fills me when I look around. Ally isn't in the practice room, but the lyric sheets are scattered all over the piano, so she must've been here today. She always cleans up before leaving.

She must be in the bathroom.

Of course. The bathroom.

I know I shouldn't come in right away, so I knock a little. When there's no response, I have no other choice then to come in, so I do. At first I think the bathroom is empty, until I look down.

This time, only two words are in my mind.

No.

No.

No.

Ally.

No.

She's there, on the floor, but it's not my Ally. Because my Ally isn't dead and still and not breathing. My Ally is alive and buzzing with energy and smiling and singing and _alive._

No.

No.

No.

I'm sorry.

Ally.

No.

I fall to my knees next to her. I have to do something. Maybe I'm just dreaming. Ally would never do this. But then I notice three pills in her hand and I realize that I'm not dreaming, because dreams aren't this bad.

My hands fumble for my phone. I dial Ally's dad. He picks up immediately, because he knows I never call unless it's serious.

"Mr. Dawson," I start saying, and it's then I realize that I'm crying, because the words I mean to say don't come out. I hear Mr. Dawson say he's coming, and then he hangs up. I call Trish too, and I sob something into the speaker, and she says she's on her way as well.

No.

Ally.

No.

You wouldn't.

No.

Why?

NO.

I curl up next to her and press her close to me. She's already cold. It feels horrible, holding someone and feeling your heartbeat drum against an empty shell. I hear footsteps pound against the stairs and I realize that Mr. Dawson is coming, and I think I should let go but I can't, because it's the last I'll get of her.

When he comes, I'm screaming her name, and he places a hand on my shoulder, which startles me. "Stop saying her name," he says angrily, and tears stream down his face but he ignores them. "She's not here anymore."

He takes the pills from her hands and throws them out the open bathroom window with a cry. Then he takes off, leaving me alone again. I've stopped calling her name, because it's no use; she'll never hear me.

Trish comes in at some point, followed by Dez, and I feel bad for not calling him too, because by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, I know he cares about her too. We all do. Finally I let go off her body and get up. Dez and I exchange glances and he hugs me for a moment, and then kneels next to Trish. She has her head between her legs and I don't know if she's crying but I hear her screaming the same words, over and over again.

_I'm sorry._

Dez tells her it's not her fault, but she continues, her whole body shaking. It's too much for me. I leave. On my way out, I grab the walkman sitting on her desk, and I remember how we made fun of her for it, and I wonder what that tape will show. I'm anxious what I'll see there, because I don't know if I'll be able to take it.

I run down the stairs and then towards my bike, walkman in hand, completely forgetting the helmet near the tree. It doesn't matter. Nothing fugging matters. Ally's gone now.

The ride home seems like forever, even though the traffic has vanished. Finally, I'm on my street, and then I'm at front of my door, and then I'm climbing up the stairs, ignoring my mom who asks me what's wrong. I go up to my room, and lock it, because I don't want her coming up and asking if I'm ok. Because I'm not, and I don't want her to know.

Jumping on the bed, I grab the tape and put it inside the walkman, then plug the yellow plastic earphones into my ears. Her voice fills my head suddenly, and I feel myself crying.

I hear he sigh into her speaker, and then she begins talking first slowly, and then all at once:

_I'm sorry._

_Yes, that sounds like a good way to start my suicide note. I'm not even sure you can call it that. But I want you to know that I'm sorry. I know you're wondering why the hell I did this to myself, and that's why I decided to record this. Happy listening._

**Ta-daa! :D**

**Ok…I hope you liked it. I'm sorry if it sucked. It's just something I really wanted to write. I'm interested what you have to say about it. Was it bad? Good? Tell me in the reviews! I'll continue only if you want me to.**

**Take care. Thanks a bunch. Love you all!**

**Stay awesome and #LOUD!**


	2. Chapter 2

**HEY! :D**

**So, I'm here with a new chapter. I'm SO happy you enjoyed the first one, and here is Ally's story for you to read. ;) **

**THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!**

**Also, shout out to Everyone's A Mortal! :) AMAZING PERSON, AMAZING STORIES, I PROMISE YOU! :D**

**And now…**

**Enjoy&Review!**

_Before we start, I want you to know that this wasn't a reckless decision, a last minute idea. No, I've been planning it for a long time. You know how I never let you touch my song book? Yeah, well it's because it's not a song book. It's the place where I've been planning my suicide for about three years. At first I just planned to escape. Somewhere far away. And I willed myself to do it a lot of times, but nowhere I'd think of going was far away enough from the thing I wanted to escape: myself. Myself and those voices in my head that never shut up. So eventually, as things got worse, that escape turned into a different, more terminal kind of escape: suicide. And as twisted as it is, those times when I'd shut myself in my room with a thousand possibilities of suicide, I felt at home and safe. Because planning my own death gave me some sick kind of relief and control that I never had otherwise._

Without meaning to, I picture her curled up in her room with her nose in the pages of her book, a small smile on her face, and relief flooding through her…that relief you feel when you finally get out of a sticky situation. And then I start shuddering, even though the covers are pulled high above my head. My mom is knocking on my door, but I turn up the volume and ignore her.

_I know it sounds depressing, and it probably is, but that's normal since it comes from the mouth of someone who suffers from depression. And OCD, but that comes in later. I know that right now you're probably in the shock phase of it all, so I'll do my best to clear things out._

There's a small pause, then she giggles, and that giggle feels so real and so the Ally that I know, that I replay it a few times, before continuing. _I don't think that you should listen to this if you hate me, because this tape is just going to make things worse. So, if you feel burning anger towards me, hit stop and move on with your life. But if there is a little part of you that still cares about me, then, my friend, here is my autobiography. Live and in stereo._

_The beginning began when my mom moved away. At the time, I was five, or maybe younger, and I didn't understand why she left us. It didn't make sense. And I blamed myself. Can you imagine it? A five year old blaming itself that her mother left. Just imagine what must've been going through my head back then. I'd love to tell you, but those details escape me, too._

_Anyway, when my mother left for Africa, my dad decided to home school me for a couple of years, because he felt lonely, and I was the closest thing to company that he had. But then he got afraid that I would be some kind of social outcast, which, hahaha, I did indeed become._

_My first day of school was terrifying, to say the least. But, luckily, I met Trish. It was great at first. I told her about my mom leaving us for a job in Africa and I spilled all my worries out to her. And she told everyone._

_I know, you can't believe it, can you? Trish doesn't do things like that. Well, she did. She told everyone. And they made fun of me because apparently it was hilarious that I sometimes cried at playtimes because I missed my mom. Yes, that was hilarious for us all. I was too little to be properly mad at Trish, so when she gave me a candy bar, we became friends again. Only I never told her anything ever again. _

_As middle school rolled around, Trish had made thousands of other friends and I was just some girl who she used to talk to. She was a part of the 'cool kids', so being with me defied their behavior code. But these kids weren't angels, and Trish was soon left out like me, and so she came back to me and pleaded for me to forgive her. You know I've never been one on the drama, so I said ok and we were friends again._

_But I never forgot these things. And there were times when my anger issues (again, more on that later) bust through, I'd yell at her and accuse her of all those things she did to betray me. But then I'd calm down and realize that that didn't matter anymore._

_Only it did._

_Soon enough middle school finished and high-school started, where the most interesting part of my story begins. And it starts with you and Dez entering the music store. To be honest, I never really liked you, because I had swore off liking guys. Why? Well, because I knew how girls hurt each other, and I could only imagine what boys did. So I tried to ignore you. But Trish fell in love with Dez. Ooops, spoiler alert. I'm sure you didn't know that, so here, now you know her little secret._

Maybe she means it as a joke, but there's bitterness to her joke so I know something is wrong.

_Anyway, she begged me to keep you and Dez around, so I did. I helped you with your writing and your career. And, since I know you like romantic crap, here is something for you: I fell in love with you. But how couldn't I? You're you. Perfect and kind and talented. And blonde. I've always had a thing for blondes. _

You loved me, Ally? I loved you, too.

_But then you grew up. You started ignoring me more and more, because you started noticing other girls, and all the things they had that I didn't. And that, my friend, is where my little suicide book came to exist. You see, one night, when you were out on a date with one of your many girlfriends, I don't even know which one, I was laying in bed crying, because that's the kind of shit that happens when you fall in love. Anyway, I took this book that my mom had given me before leaving for Africa, and I remember writing in big letters on the first page, MY BIG ESCAPE. _

_That first night, this was the only thing I wrote, but over the years, more pain came, and therefore more entries in my BIG ESCAPE book. _

Why didn't you tell me, Ally? I would've ditched all those girls in a heartbeat, without another thought. They were just distractions from the real thing: you.

_Hey, remember that time when I mentioned all of those mental illnesses? Yeah, well, surprise surprise, I have them all. And now you're probably thinking that I'm joking or lying to make this story sadder. Well, no. This is one hundred percent true._

_First came the anger issues. They started showing around the time before I met you, when I went to high-school with Trish. One day, someone bumped into me. I'm not that crazy. I probably wouldn't have minded. But the person muttered 'klutzy bitch, look where you're going'. And here's the icing on the cake: that person was you. Maybe you don't remember, but I sure do. And I'm not mad. Baby, I'm not. I'm sure you were having a horrible day, too. Because you seemed annoyed, and not at me._

I press stop. A distant memory appears in my mind and I realize that this really did happen. I did say that. I pull the cover off of my face, and plug the headphones out of my years. No. I'M SORRY, ALLY. I DIDN'T KNOW. I'm sorry. No. I'm sorry. I fall to my knees and stand like that for a while, repeating I'm sorry over and over in my head. I'm sorry. No. Then I get back and put the headphones in my ears again, because ignoring the tape won't make me feel better.

As I press play again, her voice fills my ears.

_But that little remark of yours was said loud enough for the people in the hallway to hear. And therefore came the nickname, 'klutzy bitch' which stuck with me throughout high school. I was so angry at you, that I started yelling. And not just yelling; I think I hit you in the arm. I cried a lot too, and my arms had claw-marks because I had pushed my own nails into my own hand. That's the day I came to know of my anger issues._

I'M SORRY, ALLY.

I'M SORRY.

_And now for the depression. _

_Well, this one is a shorter story. It started with my mom going to Africa, and it's about to end after this is mailed to you. When I was little, the depression was hardly noticeable, unless you looked really well. I just drew a lot of black spots on my wall, which my dad took as creativity, and cried a lot at every movie I watched, which he took as sensitivity._

_But then more and more things started happening, the things piled on top of each other, building an avalanche, threatening to bury me deep, to suffocate me, and though that seems like a dream come true now, I was terrified back then. _

_I stopped crying at movies, but I cried at everything else. That's when my dad realized that something was wrong. I'd wake up with tear-stained cheeks and walk around crying all day. My dad was almost as terrified as I was._

_And then, finally, the best of all, the OCD._

_Now, many people don't realize how bad this is. How horrible it feels to have thoughts in your mind that make you want to rip your hair out. You know how for example, you, let's say, turn on the light. Well, sometimes, I felt like I turned the light on wrong, if that makes sense. And then I'd try to move on, thinking it doesn't matter, but I'd imagine a bunch of horrible things happening, because I didn't press that fugging light right. Cue the popular line I'd always say in my head when things like that happened, "If these things actually happened, it will be because of you." And so I'd go back and press that fugging light a thousand times until pressing it felt right. That's how messed up it is to have OCD._

_And with my depression, it was ten times worse. It got so bad, that for the first time, I told Trish a secret: I told her about my OCD. The only reason I did that was because she had started acting really nice and I thought she actually cared about me. So I told her over ice-cream one day. What did she do? She laughed, patted my hand and said these exact words, "Mental illnesses aren't a thing. It just means you're crazy."_

_Yes, Austin. She was right. I am crazy. But I wasn't at first. You all made me like this._

I'M SORRY.

_I was so mad. Because she didn't care. Because she thought that mental illnesses were nothing but a joke. And hey, listen to this: I got up and threw my ice cream cone at her. And I know you're probably asking yourself if I forgave her. Let me ease you: I didn't. Because that only happened two days before today._

_I just want you to realize, Austin, that mental illnesses aren't a joke. If anyone tells you that they have a mental illness, don't laugh at them. Whatever you do, don't tell them to get over it. Because you wouldn't tell someone who's drowning to get over it, now will you? Because that's exactly how depression feels. Like you're drowning. Except you can see everything that's happening around you, and you drown forever, and no one comes to help you, because apparently you're just an attention seeker._

_Which is kind of true. We do seek for attention. Because sometimes we get to this point where nothing matters anymore and no one cares about us anymore and all you want is just some attention; someone to tell you it's going to be ok and to hold you until the dark thoughts disappear. Yeah, Austin. We do need attention._

I would've given you all the attention you needed. If only I knew. I'm sorry.

_I guess I would've taken the fast way out a long time ago, if it wasn't for my doctor prescribing me these things called 'Happy Pills'. Apparently they cured all sorts of mental illness. Well, I think the ones he gave me are broken, because here I am, totally mental ill and on the run. _

_That's why I must've seemed so happy to you; that's why I don't blame you for not trying to help me. You couldn't have known. I never told you. I guess I just hoped that you would notice yourself. I hoped that you would notice that even when I smiled my eyes cried and even when I danced I felt like collapsing. But you didn't. And now it's too late._

_I had luck at first. You know those things on my arm I'd call 'scratch marks'? They're from a pretty razor blade that I liked pressing into my arm. I don't think you can understand suicidal people unless you're one of them, but here is the best explanation I can tell you: you feel so bad, that any other pain to distract you feels amazing. Closer to the big escape. But my dad always found me before it got too serious. Until today. Because today I figured a clean way to leave. Pills. I can't wait._

_Don't stress over this. You're not the one who made fun of me; you never called me a klutzy bitch again, but…you didn't stop the people who did. I used to reassure myself that you never stopped them because you never knew, but that was impossible, because I heard you talking about me with your friends, and when they called me a klutzy bitch you never argued. You let it be. We've all made mistakes though. I have, too. So many that you think I'd drown in them. So don't worry. It's ok. I forgive you._

I hear her sigh.

_I forgive you. Just…just one thing. Promise me to never ever kill yourself, whatever happens. And certainly not because of this. It's a cowardly thing of me to do, but I was never brave, so it's ok. But you are. So never ever do it. Promise._

Another sigh. I don't want you to do it either. I promise I won't. But only if you don't do it either. Please.

_Bye, Austin._

No.

_At last I see the light._

**Ta-daa! :D**

**So…yeah. I'm sorry if you didn't like it, and I'm sorry if it was boring and it didn't turn out like you wanted it to. But it's the best I could do. So, yeah.**

**Tell me your thoughts in the reviews, I love to read your thoughts! :)**

**Take care. Thanks a bunch. I love you!**

**Stay awesome and #LOUD!**


	3. Chapter 3

**HEY! :D**

**So…I DON'T KNOW HOW TO THANK YOU. Honestly, though. THANK YOU. You have no idea how much your support means to me. I…thank you. THANK YOU! You're all amazing, and I'm sorry to say that this will be the last chapter to this short little story. **

**Also…Maybe it's too much to ask…but please, **_**please, **_**pick your favorite parts, your favorite lines, and add them in your review. I'd love to read them. Please.**

**I hope you like this. I really hope you do. Thanks for reading. You're the best.**

**But…now, onto the actual chapter, since I know this is probably boring to you.**

**Enjoy&Review!**

On my way to school the next day, I first head to Sonic Boom.

The store is closed, and there's a black bow on the front, with Ally's picture in black and white, plastered on the glass. When I see it, my throat closes up, and I feel like I might start crying again, but I stop myself. I've promised myself I won't cry anymore. I'll be strong. For her.

I use the same tree to get to the practice room, whose window is, luckily, still ajar. As I jump in, I get a flash back to the last time I did this, and I imagine seeing Ally's body again. I shudder at the thought.

Her brown songbook is lying on top of the piano, and I seize it, and stuff it into the back. I want to read what she wrote, even though it may bring even worse thoughts in to my head. Without touching or looking at anything else, I sneak back out of the window, down the tree, and head towards the school.

It looks the same from the outside, and for a moment I think that maybe it's all been a nightmare. Maybe I had imagined it. Maybe I had gone out with Dez and drank a little more than I should've, and I had some horrible hallucinations. But of course, it isn't the case.

The door flies open in front of me as someone hurries to get out, and I sneak in before it closes. As I walk down the crowded hallway, I keep my head down. People mutter my name, and I know without being told, that the rumor about me receiving the tapes has already spread throughout the entire school. I don't know how, or who did it, and I don't want to know.

Some people try to talk to me, but I don't answer. I've made a promise to myself not to talk today, as a sort of tribute to Ally.

Ally.

Even thinking her name brings a pang of pain in my chest, and my whole body is filled with the panic of despair.

I get through the first couple of classes all right, every little thing reminding me of Ally. As I sit in math class, and stare at her empty table, I half-expect her to be there, her smile bright, her eyes alight, and flooding with energy and life. Even though I know it's just a crazy thought, I'm still disappointed when my eyes meet the nothingness of her empty seat.

When lunch comes around, I feel relieved, because answering questions in class without actually talking is a hard thing to do. Nonetheless, I managed to keep my mouth shut, and eventually the teachers ignored me.

After getting my food, I sit at a table alone. I don't know where Trish and Dez are, but I don't want to see them. I _can't_ see them. Not when Ally's words are fresh in my mind, and the image of her lifeless body, like a rag doll, lying motionless on the floor.

Eating lunch isolated from the other kids is bliss. I don't have to talk to anyone, and I have managed to shut out all the other noise with headphones, so I don't hear them either. After fighting with myself for a moment, I take out my bag and probe inside for the book. Finally, my hands close around the leather cover, and I place the book on my lap.

_Day 1._

_Austin's out again. I'm feeling this thing…I don't know what it is. Trish calls in jealousy. It's more than that, I think. _

_It's much, much worse._

_I want to kill myself. It's silly, I know, but I write it anyway because no one here can judge me. It feels great._

_What am I going to do? I want to escape._

_How to escape? I don't know._

_I don't know._

Nothing makes sense, it's like she wrote the sentences in separate days, when separate things were going through her mind. Maybe that's what it's like to feel depressed; you feel things, but you don't know exactly what you're feeling, you just want to make those feelings stop.

I close the book in frustration, before I can read anymore. I can't do it. I don't want to do it either, not here. The last thing I want is to have an emotional breakdown in the middle of the school.

Suddenly, I feel someone approaching me, and immediately stuff the book in my bag and away from any possible harm. I look up then, and my eyes meet Mathew Kingston's, who has his arm swung over Kyla Blake's shoulders. They're two of the worst bullies in school, and I know for a fact that they tormented Ally, too.

I want to yell at them to leave me alone, but I'm resigned to keeping my silence. I tear my headphones out to hear what they have to say.

"Austin," Kyla says sadly. Her face is scrunched up in pretend grief, and if she weren't a girl, I would've wiped up that expression away with my fist. "Such a terrible thing that happened. I feel bad for Ally." I know she doesn't mean it. She doesn't care. She never did.

Mathew laughs sharply, and I glare at him. He's a stocky built guy, with broad shoulders, and muscular arms. His jet-black hair is swept high of his face, with a rather large amount of jell. His brown eyes are gleaming. "Ky, you're being silly. Don't feel bad for Ally. She isn't here anymore, is she? Little coward. Shame, it is. But she's gone now, so who cares."

They're about to walk away, but I get up abruptly, and stand face-to-face with Mathew. At that moment, keeping my silence isn't the thing on my mind. I grit my teeth. I'm much taller than Mathew, and I could take him with ease, but I'm not going to fight. Ally wouldn't have liked it. "You little asshole. Don't you _dare _speak about her that way. You don't deserve to even utter her name." I'm so angry, that spit flies from my mouth as I talk.

"She was a coward. Killed herself. Over what? No one knows. Probably something stupid. Probably did it for attention. Who cares if I talk about her or not? She's not here anymore," Mathew snarls back.

I stand a little taller, so that I look down on him. "Ally will be here, as long as the memory of her is alive. And as long as I'm alive, her memory will be too."

Then, without another word, I set off to find Dez and Trish, a plan already forming in my head.

/

Dez and Trish are outside.

I find them near the car park, sitting on a bench. Trish has her head in her lap, and she's sobbing so hard her whole body is shaking. Dez's gentle voice does little to reassure her.

He looks up when he hears me approach, and gives me a remorseful look, which I despise. I want to yell at him for looking at me that way, like I'm an animal he just ran over with his car, but instead I say nothing as I take a seat next to him.

"We've got to do something," I mutter after a long while of silence. When Trish hears my voice, she looks up. She wears no makeup, but her cheeks are smudged with the makeup from yesterday. She's been crying the whole time, no doubt in that.

Then I realize why she was yelling 'I'm sorry' when I called her. It turns out she did have something to be sorry about. Then I get the strong urge to tell her off, to accuse her of our loss, but then I'm realizing that I'm as much to blame as her, so I shut up. Maybe we were the only two people she bothered sending something to, (I had heard that Trish had received a tape herself), but there were probably other people who had pushed Ally a little closer to the edge of the cliff she was longing to flung herself off from.

"About what?" Trish mutters. Her voice is hoarse from crying.

I look at her and Dez and then back at the nothingness of the distance. "Isn't it obvious," I ask. "We've got to do something for Ally."

/

We miss the next few days of school.

Day and night, we spent locked up in my room, trying to come up with a plan. With the thrill of doing something, we've forgotten our worries for a while, and it feels amazing. There's something about being surrounded by friends you love that makes you feel better.

Even laughter can be heard from my room, and my mom finally thinks I've recovered, even though I refuse to tell her what was bothering me in the first place. I probably should, but I think of it as something that only Trish, Dez, Mr. Dawson and I deserve to really know about.

Over the days when we don't go to school, we pay Mr. Dawson a couple of visits. He's decided against a funeral for Ally, and won't tell us why. Though he's a bit better, and listens to us carefully as we explain the plan, he only nods and gives us half-hearted smiles. Finally, there's nothing left to say, and nothing left to do, so we quickly say goodbye and leave him to stare out an empty window.

Finally, the big day arrives.

On the morning before school, I put on my black suit, with a red tie, since it was Ally's favorite color. Dez and Trish, who slept at my house, are decked out too; Dez is wearing the same thing as I am, and Trish is wearing a slim red dress in which she looks like a model in.

We stuff all of the things we'll be needing into a large bag, which I sling over my shoulders. My mom doesn't question why we're dressed that way, but she looks surprised as we all descend for breakfast, looking as though we're headed for prom.

As I stuff myself with the bacon and eggs she's made, and savor their delicious taste, I decide that she's my mom, and she knew and loved Ally, so I should tell her. It's only reasonable to. Before starting to speak, I throw a side-ways glance at Trish and Dez, and shift nervously.

"Um…mom?" My voice rings through the silent kitchen.

Her head whips around in my direction. "What is it?" I haven't spoken to her in a long time. It's only then that I realize I miss her voice.

"Mom…Ally, she…"

She puts up her hand to stop me. "I know. James, Ally's dad, told me."

"Wait…you've known, all this time? Why didn't you say anything?"

My mom sighs, sits down, and takes my hand. "Because I knew you didn't want me to say anything. Austin honey, you were hurting, and because of you, so was I. I wanted to talk to you, to make you feel better. But you shut yourself up in that room of yours, and I thought…I thought that intruding in your life, when you needed to be alone, wouldn't be a good idea."

I feel my eyes burning. I haven't cried in days, and it feels uncomfortable to do it in front of Dez and Trish, and even my mom. But it's no use; the tears fall freely.

"Mom," I whisper, wiping a tear from the bridge of my nose. "Mom. People _always _need attention. But sometimes…we don't know we do. Or," I pause to stifle a sob. "Or we're just waiting for someone to notice how much we need it, and give it to us."

She hugs me tight then, in front of my friends, but I don't feel embarrassed. I'm hugging my mom, and it feels amazing, and I never want to let go. Since forever, I feel safe.

When we let go, Trish, Dez and I set off towards the school. It's not a long way away, but in my suit, with the Florida sun blazing down on us, I start to sweat. Nevertheless, the weather is great, as if it heard what we were planning to do, and decided to help.

The sun blazes amid a cloudless sky. There's a small breeze, which makes the palm trees sway, as if dancing to a tune we can't hear. Suddenly I feel nostalgic.

Finally, we reach the school gates. The kids hanging around the entrance give us curious looks, probably wondering why we're dressed in suits. We ignore them, and walk straight to our classes, without further ado. Everything is normal, until the assembly.

Dez and Trish catch up with me at the door to the great hall, where the assembly is held. "Ready?" I ask.

They nod, which makes me grin. "Then, let part one begin."

We file in along with the rest of the students, and take a seat close to the stage, so we'll have better access to it, if we need to get on. And, sure enough, two minutes in, we're called to make a speech. Before we get up, I push a handful of flyers into Dez's outstretched hand, and he sets off to distribute them to the chattering hall.

Trish and I climb onstage, and are greeted by a faint applause. I clear my throat. "By now, all of you should have received your flyer. And if you're wondering what it's about, then we're here to tell you."

I hand Trish the mic. "This is for everyone crying in the bathroom at lunch time. This is for everyone bullying because they were being bullied themselves. This is for everyone, who is standing right on the edge. This is the _Give Depression Some Depression _club. You'll see a number on the flyer. This is the hotline for depression thoughts. It is for anyone, brave enough to live."

And then we climb off stage, followed by a roar of applause.

Since the assembly was at the end of the day, we grab our school bags and then walk out of school, everyone else trotting behind us, discussion about the assembly on the tip of their tongues.

"Now, for the final, and best part," Dez mutters. He slings the bag he's carrying from his shoulder, and turns towards the other students. "Everyone!" He roars. The crowd turns to him in curiosity. After out speech, they have no idea what to expect. "This is for the girl with the master smile, who managed to fool us all. We're sorry, for this," he says, eyes at the sky. Then, with fierce determination burning within his eyes, he mutters something into the walkie-talkie he took out from his bag, and turns towards the crowd once again. He's smiling, and so am I.

"THIS ONE," he yells, "IS FOR ALLY DAWSON!"

And then the fireworks erupt. Thousands and thousands of then illuminate the sky above the school. It's past 6 pm, since the assembly had us finish late, and the sky is already starting to darken, so they look amazing against the faint light of the sunset.

There's four different colors; red for Ally, green for Dez, purple for Trish, and yellow for me. The colors form the words that still feel like they are ringing through my years, _this one is for Ally Dawson, the girl with the master smile._

Dez is yelling something, and he looks like he just won the lottery; his face alight with the thrill of the moment. I hug him, and Trish joins too, and soon the whole school, as if forgotten all the rumors they've heard, and all the things they've ever done, start chanting.

Hundreds of voices mingled together with some kind of hope that makes my heart ache, but it's a new kind of ache; I love it. It feels as if I'm drinking hot chocolate, or playing on stage, only it's ten times better.

It's amazing.

"ALLY, ALLY, ALLY, ALLY, ALLY!" Everyone yells. So do we. It's amazing.

They'll remember you Ally.

I'll remember you.

Everyone will.

Forever.

You're immortal now.

Immortal.

…**and this has been, "At Last I See The Light".**


	4. Thank you all!

**Hey! :D**

**Just to express my thanks…**

AusllyFinchel – Thank you so much for reviewing! It means a lot! And I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

itscalledkarma – Hey! You said you suffer from depression, so if you ever need to talk, I'm here. I'm glad you enjoyed the story, and thank you so much for reviewing!

pinkdiamond810 – Thanks so much for reviewing, and reading! You rock!

JustAnotherBlondie – Ah, you and your adorable profile pic of Dylan, and your awesome reviews. Thanks for the support! :)

ShelovesRikurt – Hazelll :) Thanks so much for reviewing!

amillipede – Hey, thaks so much for reading, and taking the time to review! You're awesome!

adorkablexxrauraxx – Thanks for reviewing, and reading! You rock!

irishfanficgal – Thank you for your continues support. Means the world! ;)

Midget-Warrior – Thanks so much for all the support! You rock!

Everyone's a Mortal - Ahhh, what can I say. You're amazing, and thank you, thank you, thank you! :)

...and a big thank you to the guests, and anyone else I failed to mention! You're all amazing!

Take care. Thanks a bunch. I love you all!

Stay awesome and #LOUD!


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